


Jack: A Divination Master

by QuillWrite



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Neo-Pagan Scripture & Lore
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Disney World & Disneyland, Gen, Ilvermorny, Kemetism, Neo-Paganism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillWrite/pseuds/QuillWrite
Summary: Jack Clairvoy is a new graduate of Ilvermorny who wishes to become a Divination Master and devote his practice to the craft. With the help of his former Divination professor, Madam Leota, he will go on to do great things in the Wizarding World trough the art of Divination. (Fandom fusions of the Wizarding World and Disney, especially in the way of the Disney Parks, contains lore extensions of the Wizarding World.)
Kudos: 1





	Jack: A Divination Master

All I had brought with me from home was my wand, clothes, money, and the letter. I arrived via the Floo System, it was much easier than finding a port key and much quicker than flying. I landed in a fireplace alongside many others, clearly a devoted room for witches and wizards coming in or going out. It was a dark room, the only light emanating from the green puffs of smoke from the other fireplaces. I stepped out and looked in what light there was to find the door out of the room. I located it as another older wizard opened it and stepped out, preceding him.

I had arrived in Orley, an all wizarding village hidden away in the heart of New Orleans, Louisiana. The buildings were all bright pinks and blues with gorgeous balconies encased by lively green metalwork. There were plenty of witches and wizards going about their day.

Magic swarmed all around. Objects levitated all around, and as I walked along the bluish grey pavement, I saw up ahead a band of instruments, playing loud jazz without a musician playing them. I chuckled to myself at the whimsical sight. 

As I made it out of the congested alley that I had entered from, I found myself facing a lake, and ahead of that lake was an island. I went down a couple of stairs to get to the edge of the railings blocking the pavement from meeting the lake. I stared at the lonely island, mesmerized, until the blowing of a steamboat horn interrupted my sightseeing, and a large steamboat blocked my view. At that point, I realized that I wasn't here to sight see.

I walked up to a wizard I presumed was a local. He was an older gentleman, with a white beard and a black robe. “Excuse me,” I said to him. “Can you tell me where I may find the Hightower Residence?” He turned and pointed ahead. “If you’re brave, it's a little west of here. Straight ‘head.” I thanked him. I suppose I understood why he said, ‘If you’re brave.’ 

I followed the simple instructions and came upon a gated victorian manor, clean and polished despite its clear age. It had a long winding entranceway from the gate to the home itself. On the left edge of the brick wall that held the fence, there was a bronze plaque, stained green with age. HM. This was the place

I turned around and saw that I had strangely not gone as far as I thought to get here. I could still see the patio of a local restaurant and could even hear the bustle of the patrons there.

When I turned around I nearly jumped out of my shoes and let out a quick sudden scream of surprise, as a ghost appeared in front of me on the other side of the gate. He was tall yet slim with long disorderly hair and a face that reminded me of a hag, that is to say, uneasy on the eyes. He wore what I could only imagine was a servant’s cloak, being how he and his clothing was colorless and transparent. But the most noticeable part of the spirit, was the end of a noose, stuck sideways around his neck, the other end looking hastily cut off.

The spirit laughed, though I couldn't tell if it was out of evil joy or a simple delight in seeing me spooked. I got up, and he spoke, in a baritone, almost bass voice. “My apologies, mortal,” he said, mimicking the act of wiping a tear from laughter, even when I saw no tear. “What is your business here?” I got up and took the letter from my pocket. “I was invited here by Madam Leota,” I said to the spirit. When I gave him my words, the spirit lit up, figuratively speaking.

“Ah,” he said in a seemingly delighted tone. “You must be young Mr. Clairvoy. Madam Leota has spoken highly of you. Do come in, I’ll open the gate for you.” Instead of trying to hold the gate, the spirit held out his right hand and the gate opened inward towards him, but it went through him as it reached a stop.

I walked through, as I walked closer to the mansion, I saw that the gardens surrounding this curved and winding pavement, acted as a premature graveyard. Tombstones were haphazardly put in disorderly fashion, with strangely cryptic and ghoulish sayings on them. To my right was a pristine white funeral carriage, and an upright horse held in front of it, despite the fact there was no horse visible. The more I looked around, the more I wanted to know about this place.

As we walked up the narrow brick steps in front of the mansion, I asked the spirit, “So what do I call you?” He chuckled to himself. “I am your host. You’re, ghost host.” Something about him gave me the unnerving idea he took more joy in being a ghost than a living being.

We got up the door and I dropped my single bag at the entrance. The Ghost Host held out his hand, and the door slowly creaked open. The inside was dark and barely lit. It was covered in what looked like dust. Up ahead of me was a corridor that looked as if it never ended, and a candle opera floating there. I had to squint to see it was a ghost from far away. 

There were two knights armor in firm position, and a large cushioned chair to the left of me. The chair’s pattern looked as if it had a face, looking right at me. I took out my wand and cast Lumos, in order to get a better view of the area. 

As I did, one of the knights jumped from its position and stood in defensive mode, aiming a large spear at me in case I came closer. “Intruder!” it said in a thick English accent. “No, Mr. Carpath. Not an intruder,” the Ghost Host intervened. “A guest on behalf of Ms. Leota.” 

“A mortal guest?” the knight asked, only now standing down. “Most peculiar. I shall keep in eye on you, mortal,” he said to me. I said nothing, and continued to hold my wand out in Lumos for light. “Do you think you could dim that light a small bit?” the Ghost Host asked. I took a small handkerchief from my robe and put it over my wand, dimming the light enough where I could see light but wasn’t as bright. “Clever,” The Ghost Host said as we walked through a conservatory to the left.

This conservatory was large and by the tables and narrow platform ahead, it looked like it was used as a meeting place. I jumped to my left when I heard a male voice pleading for someone to “Let me out of here!” I turned and on the platform was a cheap wooden coffin, the lid being pushed on by boney hands. “Oh, poor, dumb, Boggsley,” said the Ghost Host, “You’re not getting out anytime soon.” The Ghost Host turned to me and started a brisk pace forward. “Whatever you do, Mr. Clairvoy, don’t open that coffin, no matter what you see or what Boggsley says.” I asked who this Boggsley was. “A poltergeist, we keep him in that coffin when we have mortal guests so that he doesn't mess with them. The coffin is enchanted, so he can’t get out without the use of magic. But best not to take any chances.” He hurried me along.

We walked down a narrow hall with purple wallpaper with black accents that looked like narrowed eyes. Several dark doors surrounded this narrow hall. I continued to follow the Ghost Host passed a giant grandfather clock with 13 hours instead of twelve and crooked hands. It pointed to 1:20 P.M. The tail of the clock was designed as a devil’s tail, thin with a pointed end.

We passed the hall and passed the grandfather clock to a large, circular room. At the center of the room was an elevated circular platform. On it was a circular table covered in a white cloth and a single wooden chair beside it. Adorning this room were several different items, and a single long bookshelf, brimming with old forgotten lores. There was a book podium beside the table, open, though I wasn't sure what the page was about, let alone what kind of book it was. 

At the center of the table, was an ornate crystal orb, ontop a bronze orb holster to keep it in place. In this orb was a face, all too familiar. A woman, greenish in texture from the glow of the Orb, with heavy eye makeup, wild grayish hair and piercing eyes.”Madame Leota,” the Ghost Host announced, “Mr. Jack Clairvoy,” I smiled seeing her face once more. “Thank you, spirit,” she said to the Ghost Host. The Ghost Host bowed slightly, the noose around his neck doping forward. He then walked at the wall behind me, and vanished through it.

“Interesting character,” I said, looking back at Leota. “He’s ghoulish, no doubt,” she said. “But mostly harmless.” She then looked up at me and smiled. “It is so good to see you again, Mr. Clairvoy.” I walked up to her. “How have you been the first few months out of Ilvermorny been?” 

I chuckled and motioned at the chair, silently asking if I may sit, while finally casting Nox and removing the handkerchief from my wand. She nodded and as I sat down on the dust covered chair she turned her head to face me as I placed my wand gently on the table. “Rather uneventful, to be honest,” I said. “I thought graduating might be more exciting.” I said this in a rather disappointing tone. Leota continued to smile, “That all comes with time,” she said to me. “Do you still have the letter?” 

I took it back out from my pocket and showed it to her. “I must ask, Madam,” I said. “How did you write this without any hands? And is the Ghost Host able to move objects without touching them?” Leota chuckled slightly at my excited questioning. “You must have a million questions about this place,” she said. “Well, Mister Hightower, who owns this home, wished to speak with you, so perhaps you may ask those questions there.”

We talked for a small bit of time before the Ghost Host appeared from the wall. “Mr. Clairvoy,” he said. “Mister Hightower wished to speak with you. If you could follow me.” I nodded, got up, thanked Leota and followed the Ghost Host once more, taking my wand, but leaving the letter.

We walked back to the narrow hall and went up to one of the dark colored doors, where a framed picture of a mortal man with a top hat and nice suit and wooly chops facial hair. “He’s expecting you, go ahead in,” the Ghost Host said before disappearing through the walls again. I opened the door to a dark wooden office. The sides were filled with books and empty glasses. Ahead was an office desk where a ghostly version of the man in the framed picture sat. He looked up from his desk to me and smiled.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Clairvoy,” the ghost said standing up and gliding slowly to me. He spoke with a jolly tone. “I’m George Hightower, I own this mansion.” He went to shake my hand but pulled back a second later in realization of the futility of shaking hands with a ghost. He chuckled. “Oh, my apologies,” he said. “You’ll never get used to it.” He motioned to an empty chair on the side of the desk he was at. “Please, sit,” he said. I did so and he sat at his desk, I only noticed that sitting was also futile with a ghost, but choosing not to question it. 

“So,” he began. “You were invited by Madam Leota to train to become a Divination Master?” I nodded to him. “Wonderful!” He said joyously, making me smile a small bit. “It’s always so nice to see young people embrace Divination. It breaks my heart to see witches and wizards dismiss it, when there's so much truth and wonder to the art.” I smiled at his joyous nature, finding amusement in his enthusiasm. “I feel the same way, sir,” I said. “But if I may sir, I’m curious and fascinated by this place. I had some questions.”

“By all means,” Hightower said. “Ask away.” I collected my questions and asked. “So what is this place? What is it’s story?” Hightower smiled, and started his story. “Well,” he began. “When I myself graduated from Ilvermorny, I had a deep fascination with spirits. So I travelled the world, and studied every classification of spirits, I even wrote a book on my findings. That book started my profit and that profit went to moving from California to New Orleans, founding Orley here. I spent the construction with my wife. When the Mansion was complete as well as Orley then,” He suddenly froze up and adjusted his top hat and even scratched at his neck, which I had only now noticed had thick stitches around it. He coughed to try and avoid attention to it, and put on a new smile.

“Well, one thing led to another and I became a spirit. But, in my afterlife I was even more driven to understanding spirits. So, since my soul is attached to the home, I decided to turn this house into a home for ghosts whose homes were destroyed by No-Majs. To do that, I had to learn how to use magic as a ghost. It was difficult, but I discovered it was possible. I’ve even taught the Ghost Host how to do it.”

I listened closely, hanging on his every word. “So who is the Ghost Host?” I asked. “He was the groundskeeper here. Now he sort of acts as the prime servant here.” He didn't seem to want to dwell on it a great deal. “Mr. Clairvoy,” Hightower said. “While your here, you are a guest, therefore your free to go wherever you please hear and speak to whoever you want.” His joyous tone turned rather solem and his smile vanished. “But please, don’t go into the attic. If not for me, then for your own sake.” I was confused and rather unnerved by the warning and nodded. “Understood,” I said. 

“Very well then,” Hightower said as he raised his right hand. And from the wall behind me the Ghost Host appeared once more. “You rang, sir?” he asked. “Could you please take Mr. Clairvoy to where he is staying?” The Ghost Host bowed and asked me to follow him. I thanked Hightower for his time and shelter and walked out of the room.

My room was only across from the office. “Your bag is already in there,” the Ghost Host said as I opened the door to a brightly lit small but comfortable bedroom. It was clean and clearly well cared for, and a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion. My mouth was agape. “This is where we have mortal guests stay. This room is enchanted to look well kept and clean for ease of living and no spirit can enter here under any circumstance. It is also sound proof, so you don’t have to wake to socializing spooks.”

I took a good look around. To the right end was a large white bed with a clean white comforter covering the sheets. A small desk facing a window that looked out to Orley and the lake and the lonesome island. I had a tiny closet door to the left of that desk and my bag was on the wall right behind the desk. “I hope it is to your liking,’ the Ghost Host said. I had only noticed that he was outside of the room, looking in. I turned to him. “It is, thank you,” I said with a smile. “Of course,” he said. “I believe Madam Leota expects you when you are ready.” I thanked him, he bowed and floated away, and I closed the door. 

I hung up my clothes and set up my room as I needed it. I then sat on the bed. It was a comfortable feeling. So comfortable, you’d forget your living in a Haunted Mansion.


End file.
